The Many Strains of Ryphiebis
by ConGie
Summary: This fic reads from a journel of a scientist whom studies each infected, and records all of his findings. Along with an explaination on how each infected comes along, what they experience before succumbing, and also mentions the virus's origin...
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you for clicking on this fic, but before you get started, there are a few things I need to point out to you.**

**Ryphiebis is pronounced (rif – I – bus)**

**I'm not actually a doctor, but it seemed good for the story, nor am I related to Al Gorr.**

**This entire story is fan made, nothing is official.**

**This story is hot off the press, but will be corrected in the coming weeks (hopefully).**

**You have to enjoy! =)**

**The Many Strains of _Ryphiebis_**

**By: **

**Dr._ Connor Gorr_**

**Table of Contents:**

**1.) Most Seen Infected and Introduction**

**a.) Common Infected or Zombies**

**b.) Smoker**

**c.) Hunter **

**d.) Boomer**

**2.) Southern Bound Strains of Infected**

**a.) Jockey**

**b.) Spitter**

**c.) Charger**

**3.) Rare Strains of Infected**

**a.) Tank**

**b.) Witch **

**4.) Misc. Information**

**a.) Origin**

**b.) What Makes You Immune**

**c.) Personal Experience With the Witch**

**Most Seen Infected and Introduction.**

"**Common Infected" or "Zombies"**

During my studies, I have found that these so called "Zombies" are not actually the undead. They are quite simply infected, or sick. The virus they are infected with is a mixture of the three diseases, Rabies, Syphilis, and Jungle rot. When the three are combined, it takes on a mind of it's own, if it already hadn't had one. With this new mind, it moves in on the re-organization of it's victim.

It also combines a certain drug that slows the heart-rate to almost a dead stop, immobilizing it's victim, but keeping it barely alive. During this time, the victim can feel all changes, all pain, and can still hear, but cannot do anything about it. They cannot scream, move, or breath, leaving the victim to suffer a very long period of time before the brain is effected.

When the brain is finally effected, it swells until consciousness is erased from the brain entirely, leaving only instinct. The instinct part of the brain takes over the old space that was consciousness, and is then further mutated by the infection to behave very much like consciousness, but the victim will never be truly human again.

Instinct will then take control of motor functions, mobilizing the "Zombie". Once mobile, the infection increases anger and hunger emotions in the sub-conscious section of the brain, essentially finishing "why" the infected attack.

Once that is in place, the infection then moves onward to making the brain think like a predator. Following shortly after, the infection tells the brain not to attack other infected, to instead, work together towards a meal.

Upon completion of the basics, the infection then works to establish a form of communication and logic. It fuses it's new-born consciousness with the rest of the brain, giving the "Zombie" a way to think out problems and make simple attack plans.

Before leaving the body, the infection duplicates itself, for more information to later be implemented into the brain, and deletes the "pain" drive, then makes it's way to the mouth, and waits patiently for the next victim.

**UPDATE**

I recently captured a "Common Infected" and have found that once the infected cell moves into the mouth, it duplicates itself many times so that it can bite far more than once and still spread the infection. It also moves into the salivary glands and increases their output, for better chance of passing on the infection.

"**Smoker"**

The Smoker is the next step up from the "Zombies". This strain of the infected is contracted through mouth-to-mouth contact. It is most commonly spread by an infected kissing a none infected before he or she knows they have been infected.

A less common way is another Smoker, most likely gaining this strain through the first possible reason, wraps it's elongated tongue around it's victim's head. Some of the saliva then slips either into the eyes, nose, or mouth and mutates from there.

Another less common way is the sharing of a utensil or drink with an infected who doesn't know he or she is infected yet.

In any case, the infection first begins by duplicating itself in the mouth, leaving the duplication under the tongue, then moving down the throat. Once in the stomach it increases the density and dissolving properties of the acid until the stomach is completely destroyed. Once the stomach is nothing but a bag, free of anything, the intestinal track is wiped clean and cut free from both the stomach and the anus.

Back in the mouth, the infection has worked to free the jaw of all teeth and has created large sacks on one side of the face that explode and emit a kind of smokescreen when killed. It has also detached the tongue from the mouth entirely, awaiting the intestine's attach to the end.

The infection in the stomach attaches the intestine to the end of the tongue and rolls up the rest into the stomach, then seals the hole. Once sealed, it works to create a large muscle where the hole once was, that will force the tongue to be launched out of the mouth like a whip. It attaches the tongue to the stomach and creates a muscle all along the outside of the tongue so it can be controlled correctly once launched out of the mouth.

It then moves into the brain and performs the same song and dance that it would normally do to a "Common Infected". Due to the fact the victim can no longer digest, or consume for that matter, the strain of infection left in brain will stop all bodily functions, save for the heart, so that the infected victim can keep it's shape, fight, and all around live, for up to three years in time.

**UPDATE**

A team brought in a smoker for dissection some time back and I made an interesting discovery. I moved throughout the body like I would in any other autopsy, but stopped on the lungs. The lungs were full of tar, indicating that the subject had been a heavy smoker.

I had the team bring in another one and found that the same had been true with the second. With this evidence I can conclude that the infection most likely only mutates those who smoked during their life for this particular mutation. Which brings in a fourth way of contraction. Through the contents of the cigarets, most likely carrying the infection long before placed in the pack or on the wrapping itself.

In addition to this find, I found the lungs can also create their own "tongues". It is still a mystery to me as to how they can perform such a feet, but it is without a doubt a fact. UN-like the tongue in the stomach, the two in the lungs are detachable. I'm guessing that the one in the stomach is used as a back up as well as a device for degradation.

What I mean by degradation is quite simply an emotional degradation. Most likely used to distract it's prey long enough to lash out and attack. This, of course, is only a theory. A theory that I am afraid may never be proven.

"**Hunter"**

The "Hunter" is a far faster version of the "Common Infected", and a far more dangerous one at best. This particular strain is contracted through a scratch or bite to either arm or leg, including all digits. Once the infection has passed through the skin, it's creates four copies of itself and moves in on each limb of it's victim.

It starts by simply creating razor like talons to replace the victim's current fingernails in the arms, though not in the legs. Instead of claws, the legs are given glands throughout most pores that create a very sticky liquid that dries quickly, giving the victim the ability to cling to surfaces. The same glands are made in the palm of the hand, but no where else.

After these glands are finished, the infection moves onto it's larger task, mutating the muscles in the limbs so that the finished product can launch him or herself through the air. The opposing force emitted from the mutation is so great, that the skin cannot handle it. If a sort of splint is not applied along with padding beneath it, the muscle will burst out the back of the legs and arms.

A quick fix for such a splint is implanted into the victims brain upon completion. Once mobile, the "Hunter" must find a pair of sweats, a sweat-shirt, and duct-tape. The "Hunter" tends to go for hooded jackets and sweat-shirts most often, but can rarely be seen without a hood.

Once all supplies are found, the infected will tape it's forearm, bicep, thigh, and calf, Leaving only it's joints open for movement. Like all other times, one piece of the infection is left in the brain for proper guidance, should it be needed later, and anything left over sent to the mouth for further infection. However, in the "Hunter", two infected cells move to either clawed hand and spread on the talons, as a secondary for spreading the infection.

On a more personal note, during one contact with this particular infected, I found that the cell left in the mouth reshapes the teeth into fang like tools of death. If I had not been among the immune, I am afraid that I too would be one of the jumping infected that hunt those of us unaffected by the outbreak down.

"**Boomer"**

The boomer is one of the more interesting strains of the infection known to exist. There is no real explanation as to why the subject transforms in such a way, other than the fact that the infected individual is unnaturally fat from point of infection. The infection takes advantage of the gluttonous victim, and transformers all of the fat in the body, to a liquid of all things.

Once all of the fat in the victims body is practically digested, the infection moves to the intestines and other organs, excluding the stomach, lungs, and heart. It turns almost everything inside the subject into a goo that attracts a large amount of common infected to the area when it is shot out of the body.

There are several ways for this goo to exit. The infection creates an opening in the stomach, and lines the new whole with a closeable muscle, before beginning the digestion process and uses all of the stomach acid to aid in the degradation process. After everything is turned to goo, the hole in the stomach is used to launch the goo up the esophagus, and out the mouth.

There is, of course, a refractory time that the "Boomer" must wait before enough has been recreated for another attack. This period of time can range anywhere from 30 seconds, to 30 minutes. This time of course is affected greatly by the amount of food the victim has ingested within the last 24 hours.

If during that time the "Boomer" is attacked, there is a second method of spreading the goo. If the already stretched skin is punctured at any time, the "Boomer" will explode, sending bile in all directions. Giving it it's name.

**Southern Bound Strains of Infection.**

"**Jockey"**

The "Jockey" is a slightly smaller version of the "Hunter". It tends to latch onto it's victims and drag them into large hordes of infected, laughing manically all the while beating you in the head. It's primary mode of transporting itself is hopping around on all fours, again, laughing while it does so.

Alone, the jockey is anything but a threat, but when joined with a few allies, it quickly becomes one of the most feared infected to be around. In addition to it's knowing where a horde is, it also knows where another "Special Infected", such as itself, is located. This ability has brought down many groups of survivors, but only when said group is uncaring.

The infection only mutates in it's subject this way when the victim has a history of arthritis, and-or sort of a bone disorder. Along with said health problems, the bite or scratch from an already infected must reached the bone directly. If the bone is not bitten or scratched, the subject with simply turn into a "Hunter".

The most common areas of contraction are; fingers, toes, ankles, shoulder blades, shoulders, knees, and elbows. These areas are most common because of their already bony appearances. They pose as easy targets for other infected.

When the infection enters the bone, it moves through the air pockets, arching the bone as the infection sweeps through it. Once most of the body has been repositioned and curved, the muscle mass decreases and the length of each appendage increases until it looks very much like a dog.

**UPDATE**

The team brought back a "Jockey" today and asked me to find out how in the world they could find other infected around them so quickly. Doing as asked, I opened the skull of the subject and found nothing out of the ordinary in terms of an infected brain.

I decided to look at the ears, but again, found nothing out of the ordinary. I then thought of the eyes. Once they were out of their sockets I found the the eyes was oddly shaped and colored. They looked like a foot ball in their shape, from left to right, and were a bright gray in the center.

With further inspection I found that they had what I like to call "Infecto-Vision". With this sight of theirs, they could find anything infected through any wall or surface. I can safely say that, the infection is beginning to scare me. What if it mutates so that it can find anything immune to it?

"**Spitter" **

The "Spitter" is one of the less fortunate infected. Or rather, the least fortunate person to be infected for the victim is tortured for almost an entire week before the brain is effected. With most others, the brain is one of the first things to go.

The infection here is contracted in the second worst way possible, the first shall be mentioned later, swallowing "Boomer Bile". Through an odd twist of events, most people are infected this way just as they're barking out orders. I shall leave the rest of that scene up to you...

Another way is by eating infected spicy food, most likely prepared by an infected whom hasn't turned yet.

When the infection reaches the stomach, it increases the thickness and durability of the walls and esophagus. It then increases the amount of acid the stomach makes and condenses it, of course, right after making it far more lethal.

It then turns the esophagus into a tube that ends just above the tongue in a spray like nozzle. Before taking over the brain, it sends up 16 globs of acid that spill into the mouth and melt it until the jaw hangs down, across the neck. This action is slow and painful, as it is spanned throughout the course of 2 days.

At the end of this, the infection finally takes over the brain like it would any other subject. Over the next two days it works on strengthening the diaphragm so the distance of which the acid can fly increases.

Unlike other infected, the "Spitter" Cannot pass on the infection, it is merely a weapon to be used against us.

"**Charger"**

The "Charger" is an interesting one. It is only contracted in the male population, and only in those who have; the habit of using one arm far more than the other, a broken arm, or use a light amount of steroids. Usually athletes are the ones who are infected with this strain, though there are many who looked like they had worked on a farm at one time.

Their bodies are oddly shaped, and textured. Their backs and gut are a light green-brown while the arms and legs are a deep swamp-green. In addition to their intriguing colors, both of their arms look unbelievably out of proportion. One arm is ridiculously huge while the other is so small you barely see it. You would have to kill one to even notice that there was another arm.

How this strain is contracted is still a mystery. From what I understand however, the infection is most likely injected into the arm the the host uses most. Even with no real evidence of this hypothesis, I have found out what exactly happens when the infection begins it's process.

When the cell is injected, it almost immediately begins to increase the size of the subject's good arm, along with hardening the skin. It then moves all of the bones in the other arm into the victim's good one and doubles everything up. In other words, the two arms lay on top of each other and are laced together by tendons, and muscle.

Once the arm has increased it's size so much that it is almost as big as the subject, the virus works to harden the skin across the entire body. Once finished with that, it works it's way into the legs and mutates them so that the subject can burst his speed at up to 25 miles an hour. Not a large problem since he is very loud when charging at you, but if you don't see him, the end result I'm afraid is bloody, and quick death.

With more research I found that this infected, like the "Spitter", is unable to spread the virus. And from field observation, I have found that he is only used to separate groups of the immune. He is not used for true combat.

**Rare Strains of Infected**

"**Tank"**

There is one thing that we all fear will end our lives. The "Tank", who is large in appearance, but weak in mind, sends anyone who faces him into a panicked frenzy. Most people die because of this panic, too foolish to see that brawn can always be outmatched in either wit or numbers. Many prefer to combine both wit and number to take down the brute, almost always succeeding.

The "Tank" gets it's name from it's unbelievable size. My colleagues and I all agree that the "Tank" is a much larger version of a "Charger". We have found that the reason the entire body mutated was that the victim was at a loss, not being good with either arm, or quite simply clumsy.

The infection, again, is not know to have a specific entrance. With such little information on the gargantuan, it is hard to write anything at all on him. From distant field study, I have found that the "Tank" does not like anything that moves and throws millions of tantrums each day.

From an accidental startling of the "Tank", we found that his lower jaw had fallen away to make room for his unbelievable chest. We also found that the legs of the "Tank" had been mutated just like the "Charger", but were too flimsy to hold up so much weight. To make up for this small problem, the fists were reinforced with skin that was far thicker than leather.

I wish there was more to tell, but my team and I were unsuccessful in trying to bring the body back for examination. I doubt that any information will ever be gathered thanks to the rarity of the species.

"**Witch"**

The "Witch" is by far the least understood by any human being other than myself, because of her frightful appearance and unjustifiable anger. The "Witch" strain is only contactable in emotionally challenged, highly stressed, woman.

Normally the infection begins it's transformation as if it were going to create a "Common Infected", but for reasons unknown some humans only have a high resistance to the infection, instead of total immunity. The infection will try to transform the subjects mind but only succeed in harming itself. Instead of resuming a brute force attack, it moves in on the transformation of the body, in hopes of causing the victim large amounts of pain so that it can move into the brain.

During this time, the subject will scream and writhe as her organs, bones, and general structure are rearranged. Her all around strength is increased to that of a "Tank" but without the unbelievable muscle mass. Along with this strength, she is also given speed. Not quite as fast as a "Charger", but still barely avoidable all the same.

Her vocal cords are then stretched to a further length for nearly three hours, then are given little to no tension for the same amount of time. This procedure makes the screech before her attack to be far louder than a gunshot and can usually break any glass within a 25 foot radius, but it does not damage the ability to emit low bass sounds, leaving in the ability to growl.

During the time she cannot speak, the nails on her hand will all fall out. The skin on the fingers will then harden and elongate and end in a point. The space in the skin is filled up with an unbelievably large amount of detachable cartilage and the skin around is then detachable as well. The first time the victim pops of her claws there is a large amount of pain, but all times after, there is none. The reason for this is that the sets of "nails" grown from then on out, are made out of the same stuff a normal nail is made of. The new claws are unbelievably hard however, it takes a diamond cutter to file them down.

Once finished with the hands, the infection tends to focus more on skin pigmentation and hair color as well as facial features and eye color, in hopes to harm the subjects mentality. The eyes are turned into crimson pools while her hair and skin are dulled to a gray. Her face is lightly deformed with the use of more cartilage, making her look more like a witch from "The Wizard of Oz" or another modern depiction. In many cases, if not all, it succeeds in causing it's victim to give up on life.

The subject will then begin to uncontrollably sob, matching the stereotype of what most would call the "Emo". All will fueled barriers are let down, and the infection is sadly let through. With the already obvious traits given by the infection, it only increases sadness and anger while inside. It then leaves the body entirely, leaving the traumatized woman confused, alone, angry, and sad.

She is, in all actuality, never truly taken by the infection. With a small amount of surgery and a trip to the salon, she could walk among the rest of us as if nothing happened. Of course, she would only be allowed to do so when and if EEG technology correctly brings her sadness and anger levels back into a stable area.

There is however, a small problem. The eyes are irreversible. The only way to hide their glow is to either wear sunglasses, or extremely dark contacts.

**UPDATE**

In the back of the "Misc. Information" section, there is a personal story that goes along with the very first sentence in the "Witch" section.

**Misc. Information**

**Origin**

Originally the virus was designed for quick repair of the human body, and was intended to replace stitches, bandages, casts, it was going to replace everything. The general idea was to the effects of the three diseases, mentioned in the introduction, so that any part of the human body could be grown or repaired. In 2001 A.D. A company that goes by the name of **CLASSIFIED** begun research on bio reconstruction.

Many dying test patients came to the good doctors' lab over the 7 years that it took to perfect. Most cases had the patients decomposing in mere minutes because the infection spread far too quickly and multiplied far too much for the body's simple functions. In a way, the body overloaded and became a black hole, the anti-bodies killing all tissue with the help of the infection.

On November 13, 2008. A single patient survived for a recorded time of 3 weeks. This was a huge break through for all of humanity in the eyes of Dr. **CLASSIFIED.** They begun to build off of his reaction to the vaccine and finally completed a stable version of the _Ryphiebis _on November 17, 2008.

With the pre-approval of C.E.D.A. The project was shipped to the local Mercy Hospital a day later for live testing. The Vaccine was a huge success! Especially among those whom were terminally ill. _Ryphiebis_ had cured cancer, AIDS, tumors, you name it, and it was cured. The only down side was that the vile it was placed in could only be used once, same as the liquid inside.

The human body could only handle one dosage of_ Ryphiebis _once in a life time, if taken again it would overload the patient just like the older versions of it used to. With a watchful eye over it's patients, Mercy Hospital sent updates on all of the patients injected with the product over the next few days.

A blood panel was taken after day 3 from a patient with leukemia, the results were astonishing. All cancer cells in the blood stream had been entirely converted into white and red blood cells. With further inspection, the doctors there found that the vaccine had repaired everything wrong in the body and had formed into a large cluster of cells attached to the central nervous system.

Whenever something would go wrong in the body, _Ryphiebis_ would send a cell out to go fix whatever that problem was. Many specialists were amazed at what was happening before their eyes. Things that they had only dreamed of were coming true right before them.

Of course though, this was not to last. One night, a drunk doctor came into one of the patient's rooms saying that he needed to give them a small shot of nutrients, since the _Ryphiebis_ hadn't taken effect yet. The patient was in dire need of nutrition because their throat had been slit, attempted murder if you were wondering.

The doctor confused the paralysis drug with a shot of nutrients, and injected the patient with what triggered the whole chain reaction to begin it's countdown. The doctor came back hours later to find the patient running at him, pulling out any IV's with the movements. The doctor was bitten on the neck and was soon among the walking dead, working towards infecting all others.

It is in my understanding that the _Ryphiebis_ did not have a good reaction to the drug in a very good way at all. The vaccine broke off the nervous system and performed what it would normally upon entering any body after this point.

I feel there is no need for me to continue since the fact that you're reading this means you are, quite simply, immune and have lived through most of the infection already.

**What Makes You Immune**

It took a good three weeks to scavenge the notes taken by C.E.D.A. I spent that time mostly searching for evacuation points and abandoned work camps, but all time spent was rewarded well. I found that most of the survivors brought into a quarantine zones were all O blood types. This was a bit of a startle when I first saw it considering that it is the most common blood type.

With I being an O blood type myself, I set out to look for a still working computer with access to government health files. Once found I began looking for all of the names of the people in the quarantine zones. They all had interesting files, but I was looking for things that resembled my own condition.

I searched for nearly 5 days, going through file after file, looking at family history, until finally I came across one that looked nearly the same as my own. Low oxygen levels in the blood, slightly larger bone cavities, enraged blood vessels, thickened veins, heightened immune system, he had everything I had. But the one thing that stood out to me the most was the irregular heartbeat we shared.

Most people have a simple; bump bump, bump bump, heart beat. But this survivor and I had something that was a bit off, as some call it, it moves a little more like this; bump, bump bump, bump, bump BUMP bump... bump bump, bump bump, bump... bump, bump bump bump, bump.

With this revelation unearthed, I went backwards over the files I had already scanned, finding that these people also had this irregular heart beat and low oxygen levels in the blood stream. It surprised me that I hadn't seen it before, and that all it had taken was for me to take a look at myself.

With all of the facts in place, I can safely conclude that the irregular heart beat, the low oxygen levels, and possibly with a little help from the immune system, is the reason that you, yourself are immune. But what comes with this fact is a hidden truth. There is no cure other then a bullet... And possibly a defib-unit if used before the victim has turned.

**Personal Experience With the Witch**

**(AN - Please move onto chapter 2 for this part. It just didn't seem to fit with the context of this chapter so I decided to write it more like a story and make a hell of a lot longer then I originally intended it to be.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**The locations in this chapter are real world locations, barely anything is made up here. I'm actually 15 but I portray myself as a 20 year old.**

**Again, hot off the press! Both chapter 1 and 2 were written in a sequence and released at the same time. **

**Thomas and Maria are not real people.**

**I haven't actually done the hydrogen thing yet.**

**My grandpa really does have a sword.**

**I never actually worked at Costco.**

**Everything else is true (minus the zombie Apocalypse)**

**Personal Experience With the Witch**

Before I begin, let me describe to you a bit more about where we are on the map, and how we obtained our base of operations, just so you can understand more.

My team and I decided to move into a Texaco gas station just off of highway 69 in a little hick-ass town known as Prescott Valley. Don't bother in trying to find it on a map, you never will. It was originally a locally owned station, but with many robberies coming from the drunk infested motel across the street and the economy, Texaco began it's first business within a good hundred miles of my living area.

Because of all the robberies, the doors and windows were heavily barred, and the cashier, heavily armed. He didn't have anything more powerful than a shotgun, but he definitely had the ammo. I'm not sure if he was armed by the company or if he brought it in himself, the fact still remained however, we had supplies.

The little station was also a mini market at one time, fully stocked with anything a survivor would ever need. Or, if you prefer, what the stereotypical human lives off of.

We originally planned on raiding the place and getting our asses to an evacuation center like any other smart person, but we had a tough time getting in and a horde was attracted to all of the racket we made. Long story short, the cashier saw that we weren't infected and let us in.

I had asked him if he wanted to come with us, but he just said that he had seen too many movies and knew the outcome of him coming with us. He then persuaded us to stay with him and take the town back. It actually sounded like it was a good idea considering the weapons that we had gathered over the years.

Giving into his idea, the group decided to take back the land we loved and start anew when we fucked up every infected face within the city limits. For the first month, things went smoothly. We had eradicated the entertainment district, the medical district, and most of the residential areas. The business strip was still being worked on, but was mostly taken back.

It apparently wasn't perfect though. One afternoon when we were running a bit low on ammunition, a military convey moved down the strip and was soon attacked by none other then the big bad and the ugly himself, Mr. Tank...

The vehicle was hit with a slab or two then tipped, leaving the driver pinned in his seat. Lucky for us we were in a gas station. A semi sat in our parking lot, so I decided to go ahead and run Mr. Tank over a little bit... He deserved it anyways...

Using the semi's tow cable, we brought the truck back up on all fours only to find a slab of concrete in the place of where the driver's head had been. Not thinking much of it, we threw his sorry ass out of the seat and brought the truck back to our little safe haven.

In the back we found many explosives, guns, sharp sticks, and weird bottles of green shit everywhere. But the one thing we loved to see more than the rest was strapped and stacked throughout every compartment, under every seat, used as flooring even, was ammo!

There were also many tools and petty equipment strewn about, things like wrenches, screwdrivers, gas tanks, and even welding equipment. Using scrap metal off the truck, we patched up the gas station a bit more by increasing the thickness of the bars all around the glass and the doors. Then we found the radio under the driver's seat...

Let's just say that we had the military pointing guns at us a few days later asking us questions. LONG story short, they believed our story of why their convoy didn't reach it's destination and agreed to send us ammo at the end of every month as long as we agreed to do their job.

Apparently, the military was bombing larger cities and eradicating the smaller ones so they could just rebuild from there. Without so much as a second of hesitation we agreed to their little deal, but it only gets better from here on out.

After filling them in on what we had accomplished so far with such little equipment, they gave us a small squad of our own along with a field medic, intending on rebuilding our town and moving as many survivors here as soon as possible.

Nearly a year passed, a year filled with blood and fun before we had finally cleared Prescott Valley of the infection. With permission of General **CLASSIFIED** I was granted access to begin study on live infected, whom were many miles away, as to better understand them.

I turned the loading dock into a slaughter house of a sort with many evil hooks and the like hanging around on the walls. Bio suits were left in the corner of the room so as to not infect ourselves with anything else that may have moved into the bodies after the outbreak.

A portable contamination lab was setup in the middle of the loading dock along with decontamination vents as exits. Many saws and sharp things were placed inside the area along with an autopsy table and a hose hooked up to the buildings current water supply. For washing away all of the gore I was going to produce in this already vile place... If you hadn't already figured that out for yourselves.

The only thing I wasn't given, surprisingly enough, was a bone saw. They told me I was going to have to obtain my own by raiding the local hospital. So, I went to get my bone-saw.

I found a still working bone-saw up on the second to last floor before reaching the roof, along with a few boxes of fresh blades in a supply closet a few doors down. Before closing the door to the closet, I handed off the equipment to my team and closed the door.

As I was turning to leave however, that old chill ran my spine. I spun around and raised a few pistols up in front of me to find a pair of glowing yellow eyes glaring daggers at me. I fired several times at it and it took of around the corner.

Breaking into a run, I followed it up the stairs and onto the roof, where I found it hunched over on the heli-pad. I hadn't noticed at first but, it's throat was covered in large tumors and the like and... Why in the world was it in a straight jacket?

Moments later, it rose up to full size and screeched long and hard, forcing me to cover my ears. The screaming didn't stop for such an unbelievably long time, I thought that I was going to die of a head-ache right then and there.

So I shot it... And shot a few minutes after I knew it was dead with an M16... then I took my partner's chainsaw... The fact of the matter is, it would never be considered living ever again.

We took the supplies back to our haven and slept for a good night, the whole time thinking about what I dubbed as The "Screamer". The next morning we were scheduled for a food pick up, so we got up early and set off.

I should really say we only stepped out the front door though, because that damned screechy thing had filled our year-long work all the way back up. Infected were everywhere, and they looked at us with hate in their eyes as we walked our loud, joking asses out the front door.

Again, long story short, after a few months, and with a few hundred additions to our team thanks to the army, we cleared the town. I made sure that any screaming infected were put down before even a muffle could escape their lips.

Once clear however, I decided to go visit a few child hood and teen hangout areas that I had wasted my time with friends in. The first that came to my mind, me being a guy, was the good old Costco food court. After walking back to my zombie-less neighborhood, I took my, surprisingly still running, pickup-up truck just to the edge of Prescott.

**FIRST PERSON**

The old Toyota was no doubt in bad shape, but it still ran like it just came off the assembly line. The truck was a '93 Toyota Pick-up, gaining a few modifications along the way though, so it wasn't a true Toyota anymore. Sadly, the bed had been totaled nearly nine years ago, and was now multicolored thanks to the new one being red, while the cab was black.

The truck was my father's at one time, but as a 'sweet sixteen' present, he handed me the keys saying "You have supported this family enough, go have some fun." It brought tears to my eyes to think about my family now, I just hoped that they were still alive...

Pushing aside old memories, I pressed the clutch in further and moved the stick into 3'rd gear, bringing my speed up to 56mph as I moved onto the highway. I looked to right of the speedometer to see that my gas tank was still maxed out, even after driving so many times before the infection. That was another thing I liked about this truck, it didn't run on gasoline.

Back when I was fourteen, my dad and I modded his oxygen sensor, fuel line, and spark plugs so that he could use water as a fuel source. It was 2 part hydrogen, so why not remove the oxygen part? More tears moved to cloud my vision as I was passing the entertainment district.

Pushing the memories even farther into my mind, I moved into 4'Th gear and brought my speed to 74mph. I pulled a small folder closer to me from the seat next to mine until it was up against my leg. Using my leg as a wedge, I brought the case up onto my lap and flipped it open.

CD's galore entered my sight, all of them scribbled upon with marker. I pulled out one CD and slowly pushed it into the player. The CD moved inwards with the sound of little motors moving about inside, moments later the sweet sound of an acoustic filled my ears.

I tapped my hand against the wheel, not afraid to to hit the horn, it didn't work anyways, I just wanted an extra sound for my new tune. The song progressed further as I moved through the hills separating Prescott from it's child, Prescott Valley. The song finally wove it's way through the hardened shell around my soul and began to bring my spirits up from what most would consider rock bottom. And for the first time in the last two years, I sang, without a care in the world.

"We weren't in love oh no far from it  
We weren't searching for some pie in the sky summit  
We were just young and restless and bored  
Living by the sword  
And we'd steal away every chance we could  
To the backroom, the alley, the trusty woods  
I used her she used me  
But neither one cared  
We were getting our share

Workin' on our night moves  
Trying to lose the awkward teenage blues  
Workin' on our night moves  
In the summertime"

By the time the chorus had ended, I was pulling into the parking lot of my destination, with a smile on my face. I shut the radio off and let the engine die away as the key left it's seat. With a sigh, I removed the seat-belt that I hadn't even realized I put on, pulled the parking brake into place, and exited my vehicle.

The door clicked into place with a little push and I was soon inside the food court, looking around at the dust covered tables like someone who had just been told they were a millionaire. Sweet memories came flooding back to me, friends, laughing... LOTS of laughing.

Even with a grin on my face I felt sad, my life was stolen away from me, just like that, and all because of some drunk bastard. I walked further into the court until I was finally in front of the entrance to kitchen. With little effort, the door swung open and I moved through to the other side, memories of Thomas, the cook, came back to me.

He was an energetic young man with a sad case of leukemia. Even with his sickness, he was always on time, and happy about it! I laughed at the memories of all the jokes he used to play on Maria... And Maria! Oh how many memories came back at her name.

The management was never truly happy with anything she did. Bet then again, she was never happy with how they couldn't take a joke, A.K.A. Ice cream and expensive suits. I wasn't at all surprised the day she was fired, in truth it was more a relief, I was running out of shirts that didn't have ice cream stains.

I now stood in front of one of the two cash registers, pretending to take the orders of customers, laughing every once in awhile, pretending to have a conversation with a one. As I have learned over the length of this apocalypse, you have to enjoy the little things.

A light crying made it's way into my ears as I finished one conversation with a "customer", the word "Witch" instantly popped up into my head. I checked my belt and back for weapons, being far too used to carrying them to notice them otherwise.

My grandfather's prized samurai sword was on my back, it wasn't gonna do shit against this bitch... A couple 9MM's on my hips along with maybe... 8 extra mags... If she has a large amount of obstacles and I have a quick escape, maybe.

I felt around a moment longer and stumbled upon a bile bomb... Using that now would just prove that I'm a dumb ass... Hell, I AM a dumb ass, I don't need a bile bomb anymore!

The crying continued longer still, it's pitiful sound bringing emotions of my own up from their depths. I'm just gonna see where she is, and if there are a LOT of obstacles, AND if I can escape, then I'll kill her. If not, then fuck it, I can come back later.

I hopped over the counter and mover around the corner to the right, checking every door along the way as I moved down the walkway to the restrooms. The crying grew louder as I neared the entrance to the restrooms, confirming any suspicions that I may have had.

I swear, if she is in there, I am SO getting out of here.

Sure enough, I looked into the women's bathroom, and there she was, looking at floor and crying away. I backed out of the doorway as slowly as possible, using all knowledge that I still had from martial arts lessons on how to move soundlessly. I was almost home free, just a few more steps and the danger would have been avoidable, but fate doesn't work that way.

My foot slowly pushed against one of the trashcans in between the two restrooms, moving it ever closer to falling and practically ending my life. The large can bounced against the floor behind me, causing a gasp to escape from the room I was so ready to leave. I didn't even stare into her face for a nanosecond, I was just.. Gone!

I was halfway out of the walkway, and back into the food court when a screech sounded from behind me. I didn't dare look back at my chaser, I just sped up, too afraid to do anything else.

Is this really how things are going to end for me? I just wanted to have some comfort, some child hood innocence... Well, I've had a good run, and I've given a place for humanity to start over in. I even got to drive my truck again, that's good enough for any man right there...

I felt five sharp strips of pain erupt from my backside, along with the weight of the sword being loosed. It didn't slow me down in the slightest though, I just kept running. Sure, I accepted my fate, but it would be nice if I could just go for one more drive.

The five claws hit me once again, this time sending me to the ground. I slid across the ground, stopping underneath the large fans just above the exit. So that really is it then? Alright, if it's my time, I'm ready.

I looked up as the Witch was raising her hand over her head for the kill, bits of my blood dripped from her fingers and fell onto my shirt. It almost seemed like everything was in slow motion, maybe it was? Maybe this was where I said my last words...

"Make this quick, witch!" I screamed right before she brought her hand down.

She gasped and stumbled a bit, trying to stop her claw. The blades of death stopped just above my jugular vein on the left side, forcing small beads of sweat to form upon me and run down to the ground.

Taking the small amount of time that she gave away when she stumbled, I kicked her in the chest and ran back towards my freedom. My hopes of escape were cut short though as a slab of concrete flew across the parking lot and landed by my feet.

I looked to where the slab had flown in from and actually considered suicide. A Tank was moving through the lot towards me, and fast! With only one real possibility of escape left, I ran back from where I came. The Witch was picking herself off the ground as I ran at her, I flew past her and jumped over the registers, moving into the maze of aisles.

A table flew over me from behind and destroyed a set of lights just off to my left, the Tank must have seen me move into the small maze, because he sounded like he was following me. I rounded a corner and moved into the frozen and canned goods section of the store. I ran over to one of the freezer doors and threw all of the contents out onto the floor.

I pushed the rack inwards and closed the freezer door behind me, hoping it didn't see me go in here. The pounding got louder and I saw the brute move past me, thankfully continuing on further. Just as I was about to let my breath out, the freezer door I had used opened and the Witch stepped inside.

I pulled out my pistols with shaky aim, firing a few rounds. She dodged the first two shots, but then did something I had never seen before, she deflected the last three with her claws. Just then, a shopping cart flew through one side of the freezer and out the side I came in from, taking the Witch with it.

Not wasting time, I holstered my weapons and left the way I came. The Tank came out a few seconds behind me, obviously furious about my disappearance. It picked up one of the racks from the floor and chucked it at me, it hit home, knocking me to the ground and leaving me winded.

The brute bounded up to me and raised it's fists high above it's head. Just before the fists of death were about to come down, the shopping cart that struck the Witch flew into the back of the Tank's head. The behemoth roared in anger and turned to see who had attacked it. To both of our surprise, the Witch from earlier was running towards him, claws outstretched and screaming.

She jumped onto the Tank's head, gripping it tightly with her legs. If I hadn't been so close to death, that would have set a few triggers off in my head, but being that this was a fight to the death, I crawled over to the freezer and pulled myself up to a standpoint.

I looked over at the battle in awe at the scene, the Witch had stabbed clean through the Tank's chest and was kicking it in the face over and over again as it lay there in pain. Regaining my composure, or what was left of it, I pulled out the bile bomb from earlier, now thankful for it, and pulled my arm back for the throw.

"Get out of the way!" I yelled. The Witch looked up and launched herself into a roll off of our opponent just before the smile vile broke against 'The Hulk's' skin. Just as I hoped, the sound of hundreds upon hundreds of feet met my ears.

The skylight above suddenly caved in and infected poured down on top of the Tank. I pulled a fire extinguisher from the wall I was leaning against and threw it best I could into the horde. I bent down and looked though the many legs until I found where it lay. Pulling out my pistols again, I opened fire in it's direction.

A satisfying hiss filled the air as one of the bullets made contact, I limped back into the freezer as quickly as my legs could carry, waiting for the explosion. The small container exploded a few seconds later and shrapnel flew in all directions, killing most of the horde right then and there. I shot the remainder of infected before stepping back into the aisle, along with the Tank that was now getting back up, and glaring at me.

The Witch suddenly came flying out of the blue and attacked the beast again. Her claws slashed through it's hand as he tried to block her fury and the hand flew up into the air. The Tank roared before raising it's good arm into the air for a good slam, but it recoiled as one of my bullets pierced through the palm.

It was now beginning to realize that death was near, so it went into a fierce attack mode. It pulled up the concrete beneath the Witch, tripping her, and threw the slab at me. It hit dead center and knocked me to the ground once again, thought this time, I was too weak to get up.

I watched as the Witch pick the slab off of my mangled body, and throw the slab back with the same, if not more, force than the Tank himself. It collided with the behemoth and broke into many pieces against his body. The Tank then fell to the ground with a thud and one last glare.

The Witch turned to face me once she was sure the brute was dead, a look of concern on her face. I tried to crawl away, but I was just too weak. Pulling out one pistol, I brought the barrel up to the side of my head.

"Don't shoot!"

I immediately dropped the gun with a clatter as it hit the floor. Did... Did she say that? But... That doesn't make sense!

"I'm not going to hurt you, I swear." She bent down next to me and did something I had only seen in a dream happen. She slapped each against the ground and they broke off of her hands, much to my relief.

"How did, why would, what's going on?!?" I stumbled.

She smiled at my slightly insane rambling before standing and extending a hand towards me. I hesitated for a moment, but grabbed it and moved to my feet. Se helped me move back towards the front of the store, only stopping once to grab the sword she removed earlier.

Once back at my truck, she opened the back of the bed and laid me down on it. I lifted my head to follow her movements, she walked over to the cab and opened the door. "Jeez! Do you ever clean this thing?"

I didn't know how to respond... I mean, a Witch is talking like a human! And she's talking to me!

"Here we go!" I heard her exclaim. She moved back around to where I lay, her hands wrapped around a red bag with a medical sign on it.Wait... This is weird...

She opened the bag and dumped the contents out next to me. "Remove your shirt and pants." She spoke flatly. "What?" I asked, starting to think this was all a dream.

"Oh come on, it's not like you haven't done this for me before." This has got to be a dream... I carefully stripped down to my simple garb and tossed my tattered clothes onto the ground. She rolled my onto my stomach and began tending to the claw marks on my back.

"Why are you doing this, and is this a dream?" I asked.

"I'm fixing you up, no, this is not a dream."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes..." She growled. Once my back had been tended to, she examined my legs. I felt a needle poke through the edge of a gash and hissed. "Oh shut up, you big baby!"

I chuckled nervously."You say it like you know me."

"That's because I do, dumb ass."

"You do?" I asked, befuddled. She stopped moving the needle and looked at me, a sad expression on her face. "Do you... not remember me, Connor?" She sniffled.

Crap, she knows my name, this isn't going to end well. "I don't recognize you is all. What's your name?"

Tears started falling down her cheeks. I removed the needle from my thigh and tied the stitching off. Carefully, I moved to wrap my arm around her, as not to piss her off, I still didn't know if her claws grew back or not or how fast. "Hey." I cooed. "It's OK, what's your name?"

She sniffled a few times. "Ma – Maria..."

Oh my God.... She obviously saw my face change, because she started crying. I pulled her into a tight hug and I too began to loose a sob. "I thought you were dead!

"Why didn't you come back for me?" She asked between sobs.

"I did, I couldn't find you anywhere." She wrapped her arms around me, I then pulled her onto my lap, trying to gain all of those years back in an instant. "Why did you leave me alone?"

"I didn't leave you alone, Thomas was there."

"Thomas bit me!" She exclaimed.

"I'm so sorry, if I had known any of this would have happened, I would have taken you with me." She stayed quiet after that, much to my liking, I didn't like it when she was sad. "I swear, I'll do whatever it takes to get you back to normal, even if I have to sell my soul to the devil himself."

She looked up into my eyes, locking me in place with that stare that could stop hearts. "Thank you, I've been dreaming of the day you would say that, I'm so glad it's finally here." With that said, we sat together for a little while longer before dressing and heading back to the safe zone, and back to rebuild our live.

**EXIT FIRST PERSON**

Her last sentence to me that day helped bring many Witches out of their fitful rage and back to the ones they loved. All it took was for the that originally caused them pain to confess to their wrongs.

I hope that this journal of a sort has helped you understand the infection a bit more. I also hope that it will help you gain that loved Witch back some day... Thank you for reading...

**I spent two and a half months researching diseases and another two weeks writing. If you liked what I came up with, please review. I worked very hard and I think I deserve a pat on the back. If you see any errors, feel free to copy the paragraph that it is in, and correct it, then send it to me. I'll list your name as a contributor here at the end once I think there are either too few or zero errors left.**

**And BTW... I don't accept flames. If you don't like it, stfu and go write your own!**

**Contributors:**

**xmodius (inspired me to rewrite the explaination of chapter 1 and the encounter with the witch in chapter 2)**

**RoxasAtTheDisco (chapter one correction)**


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